House of Madness
by Nachtschwalbe
Summary: In which Harry is hunter-raised and hiding more weapons in his robes than what should be possible; Hermione's parents secretly worship Loki, who turned their adorable little daughter into a pyromaniac; Ron just tries to keep up; Neville blames the Sorting Hat for getting dragged into this mess and of course Loki has lots of fun. Dumbledore really needs a drink. Now.
1. House of Madness

House of Madness 

In which Harry is hunter-raised and hiding more weapons in his robes than what should be possible under the laws of physics;  
Hermione's parents secretly worship Loki, who turned their adorable little daughter into a pyromaniac (though she would argue that she managed that all on her own);  
Ron just tries to keep up;  
Neville blames the Sorting Hat for getting dragged into this mess  
and of course Loki has lots of fun.  
Dumbledore really needs a drink. Now.

* * *

Petunia Dursley, nee Evans, took one look at her wailing nephew, skimmed over the letter and decided that this would simply not do.  
What if that freak corrupted her precious little Duddy-Baby?  
No, Harry Potter had to go.  
So what if he needed to stay with a blood relative of Lily's, she couldn't be the only one, could she?  
Their Parents were dead.  
Her father had not had any siblings and her mother's only sister was dead too.  
But wasn't there that strange, travelling drunkard in America? Yes he would do, related by blood to Lily (and therefore to her, but Petunia had learned to skillfully ignore biology years ago – otherwise she would have known that a horse and a walrus mating was not a good idea), but best of all, on another continent entirely, he could take the freak.

John Winchester listened to the slightly hysterical ramblings of his civilian cousin Petunia and read the letter, some asshole named "Dumbledore", who thought that leaving an infant on a doorstep in a freezing November night was a good idea, thought to be an amble explanation for this whole mess.  
It wasn't.  
Some research was in order.  
And a drink.  
But first: "You", he told the baby he was about to effectively adopt. "Will be a hunter. Not a freakin' witch."  
The baby gurgled.  
Still not sure what that was supposed to mean, despite currently having a son just two month older and another one who had thankfully, being four years old, already learned to speak, he continued: "Don't get me wrong, I'm not saying your mom was a bad person, though I only met her twice, didn't even know she married and had you…  
Well, she couldn't have been worse than her sister."  
And that served to finally shut up Petunia. Having lost his wife only about a year prior, John had no patience for people who would turn their back on family.  
"Let's get you home, Harry. Your new brothers, Sam and Dean, are waiting in the motel and then we're heading back to the States."

* * *

The Grangers came home from one of their rare nights out and found utter mayhem:  
The walls of their living room, formerly white with blue accents, were bright yellow (Hermiones favorite color), toys and furniture was strewn around everywhere, the babysitter was running around, screaming, with her hair on fire and in the middle of it all sat three year old Hermione, clapping happily.  
So they did what every responsible, pagan worshiping parents would do:  
Dr. Helen Granger picked up her little angel, cooing.  
Dr. Richard Granger put out the babysitter with a bucket full of water and quickly got rid of her.  
Then they summoned Loki, their go to for everything supernatural, somewhat of a family friend, since he had saved Helen's great-grandmother when she was still a little girl and Hermione's godfather.  
Said god appeared, ate the offering of a triple layered, sugar free chocolate cake and patiently listened to the Grangers tale.  
Then he scooped up Hermione and gleefully told her: "We are going to have so much fun together!"  
Hermione giggled (and it was an adorable little girl giggle, her parents swore, not an early attempt at an evil cackle, like Loki insisted).

Since Hermione could not be left alone with any babysitters, Loki, proud uncle and godfather that he was, offered to take her, whenever the Grangers needed time for themselves.  
Helen and Richard looked at each other, decided that as long as Hermione was cared for and happy (and she was both, even though she developed a strange obsession with a purple bunny) they didn't need to know any details and agreed.  
And that was how Loki brought a magic toddler to the next annual Asgardian family reunion.

* * *

The first time Harry Winchester, formerly Potter, was introduced to the big bad wolf, he and his brothers found the body of a werewolf's victim, chest ripped open, heart half eaten.  
He was six and only understood that this was the work of a monster, but their father would hunt it down, because he was a hero.  
His nightmares that night were filled with corpses and shadowy wolf monsters.

When Harry was ten, Dean showed him and Sam how to shoot a gun, so they could kill any evil son of a bitch that tried to go after them.  
He loved it.

The letter that arrived at Harrys eleventh birthday was expected, but still dreaded.  
John had conducted extensive research on natural born witches and what John Winchester tried to find, he would find.  
They awaited the schools contact at uncle Bobby's and even though Professor McGonagall was visibly not impressed with the hunters tests and paranoid questioning, she stayed professional and in the end she was able to convince the family to send Harry to Hogwarts.  
(Also, Sam overheard her giving their father tips on how to deal with a "Dumbledore", apparently you just ignored it and it would assume that everything was alright…  
They had thought, it would be some kind of protecting spirit native to Britain, though Harry later found out, Dumbledore was in fact his headmaster and McGonagall's advice spot on.)  
Though he noticed, she did not show up to take him shopping, but send Hagrid instead who was much bigger and build rather sturdy and nobody seemed to understand the concept of adoption and that his name was Winchester, not Potter.

* * *

The first time Hermione Granger was introduced to the big bad wolf, Loki had brought her to meet his (adopted) children:  
His oldest, Sleipnir, who could take on the shape of an eight-legged horse and was faster than anybody but Loki himself. His actual father was a spirit of winter and ice, so Sleip really hated summer and beach vacations.  
Jormungandr, Fenrir and Hel, the triplets who looked and acted nothing alike – honestly, a giant, lazy snake, a girl who had an army of zombies and an ever hungry wolf, who was surprisingly good with children.  
Narvi and Wali, who usually were the most normal of the bunch, as long as you didn't mentioned weapons or butterflys.  
And Skalli and Hati, Fenrirs sons, who were responsible for the existence of hellhounds (Skalli) and werewolves (Hati) respectively, together with some woman named Eve (not the one from the Bible!) – but that was going to be explained when she was older.  
Fenrir had given her a piggyback ride and they all called her little sister – familial relations were always complicated with immortals, so the best way to go about it was to simplify everything as much as possible.  
Hermione couldn't wait for the next time, she'd get to play with her new siblings.

When Hermione was ten, Kali, her uncle Lokis special friend, showed her how to throw fireballs at anything or anyone that tried to hurt her.  
She loved it.

The letter that arrived at Hermiones eleventh birthday had been greatly looked forward to.  
Hermione loved learning and learning about magic was always a highlight (she couldn't do much yet and the only part of her magic that she actually had under control, was fire).  
Helen and Richard had been a bit wary at first, because they could not enter this magical world and look out for their daughter there, but Loki assured them, that he certainly could and would.  
After all it had been quite some time since he'd last messed with the Wizarding World…

* * *

"Hermione Granger."

"Do you know where I can find a purple bunny?"  
"I must admit, I have no idea, after all I am…"  
"Can you proclaim me queen of the Wizarding World then? That would be fun…"  
"No Miss Granger, I am…"  
"Of Great Britain at least?"  
"No, I am…"  
"Can you make it so that all the food is sweet, but sugar free, and everybody has to speak in rhymes and hop from class to class on one leg?"  
"No! I am the Sorting Hat, my only purpose is to sort the first years in their respective houses."  
"That's boring."  
"Not with what I see in some heads…"  
"Do tell?"  
"Let's just say, the trauma I get from you alone will take me month to work through…"  
"Only months?"  
"Let's just get to the sorting…"  
"Can you send me to Gryffindor? It sounds like the house with the most fun."  
"Now that I can and will gladly do! GRYFFINDOR!"  
"Thanks Mr. Hat. Oh, before I forget, please don't blow my nice girl cover or I will be forced to prank you."  
"I assure you, your secrets and reputation are save with me, Miss Granger."  
"Good."

* * *

"Neville Longbottom."

"Gryffindor please?"  
"Well, I can't see why not. And for a polite lad like you, I will even offer some advice:  
First, your housemates are all crazy, some more than others. Just go with it."  
"Okay…"  
"Starting to have doubts about your choice? No? Very Gryffindor of you, boy.  
Second, remember Miss Granger?"  
"Little girl with big hair?"  
"Exactly. Try not to antagonize her. In fact, if you could befriend her and keep her occupied, you would do the Wizarding World a great favor."  
"Okay…"  
"Well, nice talking to you, Neville Longbottom of GRYFFINDOR."

* * *

"Harry Potter."

"Can you sort me in the house of awesome? 'Cause Dean said that'd be really cool."  
"No, Mr. Potter, you will be sorted in one of the four existing houses, like anyone else."  
"It's Winchester now. And can you put me into Gryffindor then? Sam said that's close enough."  
"Are you sure you want to go there Mr. Potter? Slytherin could make you great and let me tell you, this year's Gryffindors…"  
"Let me tell you, if you don't sort me into Gryffindor right now, I will pump you so full of salt rounds, they'll call you the Sorting Cheese!"  
"On second thought, you will fit right in with GRYFFINDOR!"

* * *

"Ronald Weasley."

"Gryffindor, Gryffindor, Gryffindor, Gryffindor, Gryffindor, Gryffindor, Gryffindor, Gryffindor, Gryffindor…"  
"Yes, yes, I got the idea the first time, boy…"  
"I need to be in Gryffindor, I'm a Weasley, please, please put me in Gryffindor, I swear I can be brave!"  
"Since you asked nicely… Let me give you a little bit of advice:  
First, mind that temper of yours.  
There are some scary people around this year.  
Second, you were always going to end in Gryffindor, if only be virtue of fitting the other houses standards even less, so, try to keep up, will you?  
Won't do for you to bring shame to GRYFFINDOR."

* * *

Contrary to popular believe, Hermione Granger did not cry because of Ronald Weasley.  
Rather, an evil grin flashed over her face  
(seen only by Neville, who, knowing his friend, wisely decided to leave her alone for the rest of the day. House of bravery Gryffindor may be, even house of madness in recent times, but suicide was not part of his job description.),  
then she produced some tears and pushed her way to her newly christened layer of doom, otherwise known as the girls bathroom.  
More or less comfortable seated in her favorite cabin, Hermione dried her face, cursed Weasley, his foul mouth, the general annoying stupidness of the Wizarding World and the general lack of purple bunnies, then she began plotting.  
Judging by the two months she had spent here and the review of her carefully conducted experiments, she could do literally anything and it would be blamed on either the Weasley Twins or Slytherin house…  
Oh, this was going to be grand!  
Loki would be proud of her.

Other where Ron Weasley felt cold dread settle in his stomach.  
Or maybe it was hunger.

* * *

Mountain trolls, Harry Winchester discovered, didn't exactly like salt rounds (or any of the other firearms from the extensive collection hidden in his robes), but instead of disappearing or dying, the fugly only got angrier. Awesome.  
Memo to self: Get bigger guns and amour-piercing weapons.  
Well, though luck, because slowly but surely Harry got angry too! What the heck did the thing think, trying to corner a helpless girl?!  
Pulling out an enormous machete (birthday gift from Uncle Bobby), Harry Winchester got ready for close combat.  
But then an annoyed sigh made everyone pause and look for danger.  
Soon all eyes zeroed in on Hermione Granger, who calmly stood from her hiding spot under the sink, seemingly brushing of the tears and fear together with the debris on her robes.  
"I really thought the teachers would be here by now…", she mumbled.  
Then she got in some sort of fighting stance and proceeded to throw fireballs at the troll.

Ron Weasley, who had stood by the door the whole time, gaping, swore to never ever cross Hermione Granger again.

Recently arrived Neville Longbottom simply shrugged.  
"To late to save the troll… Oh well, bad luck happens. Maybe we can tell people it was an accident."

Harry Winchester looked between the roasting carcass of the troll and the beautiful girl who could apparently throw flaming hot balls of fire and promptly got down on one knee.  
"Hermione Granger, will you marry me?"  
"We are two eleven year olds who haven't even exchanged more than a dozen words."  
Confronted with the flat look on his angels face, Harry brought out his greatest, most devastating weapon: The kicked puppy look.  
"Oh, for the love of… You can ask me in ten years."  
Well, Harry could work with that.

Unknown to any of the four (five with troll) current occupants of the bathroom, the whole scene was eerily reminiscent of the first proposal of one James Potter to Lily Evans, after he had seen her kick the asses of some older bullies – though her weapon of choice had been a beaters bat.

Of course, now that everything was said and done, the teachers showed up.  
In both past and present.

* * *

"Longbottom, Weasley, Potter, Granger what are you doing here and what happened to that troll?!", Minerva McGonagall bellowed furiously.  
When, after a headcount, four students had been missing and all of them her first years, she'd been worried sick.  
What if they encountered the troll?  
They searched, first the dungeons, then the rest of the castle, all the while praying that she'd be on time.  
It seemed that while she hadn't been, the students were quite safe, even though Mr. Weasley seemed a bit faint and Mr. Potter wore a dazed smile, which was just utterly out of place.  
And Minerva McGonagall's worry unloaded unto the students as helpless fury.  
"It was an accident", Mr. Longbottom offered.  
"I didn't even know there was a troll until it suddenly stood before me!", Miss Granger claimed.  
"I am a hunter", Mr. Potter said.

"One after another. Mr. Longbottom, begin."  
"After I heard, that there was a troll lose and Hermione didn't knew about it, I went to save the troll, but I was too late. Though I am sure, it was an accident."  
Poor boy, obviously still under shock.

"Mr. Weasley?"  
The boy whimpered, but did not talk. Shock, too.

"Mr. Potter?"  
"I heard that Hermione was still in the bathroom and didn't know about the troll, so Ron and I went to warn her and, if possible, hunt the troll.  
But the troll found her before us and I fighting it alone was too slow, so my future wife killed it herself."  
…maybe the troll had hit the boys head?

"Miss Granger?"  
"I was in the bathroom and didn't even know that there was a troll in the castle, till it suddenly stood before me, trying to kill me.  
So I tried do dodge, thinking that surely the teachers would came any moment and neutralize the troll. But you didn't, instead Harry came and blasted it with rock salt and then I got bored of waiting and grilled the troll.  
Ahm, it was an accident, of course.  
I think my accidental magic protected me? Fire was always… Yes, well. An accident.  
Oh yes and Weasley was there to, standing at the door and a bit later Neville came."  
And another one in shock, though it was no wonder, the poor dears had fought a troll.

"So, to sum it up, Miss Granger you didn't know about the troll, because you were using the bathroom.  
Misters Potter, Weasley and Longbottom went to warn you and you all encountered the troll, unfortunately.  
You all tried to fight the beast, your magic reacted and burned the troll."  
"Close enough."

* * *

Hermione had known that Hogwarts did not have the highest standard in regard to its teachers and other personal.  
Some were unapproachable, unfriendly or downright incompetent.  
But this really took the cake.  
And Hermione, like her godfather and siblings, hated people trying to steal cake, both literally and metaphorically speaking.  
Which meant one Severus Snape, who was at the moment trying to curse her friend from his broom was in for a world of fiery pain.  
As soon, that is, as she had more time and ideas than to simply set him on fire.

* * *

Christmas was a wonderful time of the year in nearly everybody's opinion, but there were certain think that could always make it better.

For Hermione Granger it was the hot sun and beautiful beaches of New Zealand, to which Loki had transported the whole extended family.

For Harry Potter it was being back in the States, hunting with his family and trying out the knife, his Hermione had sent him as a present, a knife that she had claimed, could even kill demons!  
Apparently her godfather had helped her finding it.  
It had been a bit of a shock, to find out that the cheerful looking man with the golden eyes, whom Hermione introduced as her godfather, was in fact Loki, the Trickster. A monster.  
But Harry would be able to put up with it, for his future wife!  
He was just glad, he always took the floo from King's Cross to Bobby's, had his father been here… Well, let's just say, John Winchester really didn't like this particular monsters…

For Neville Longbottom it was being able to visit his greenhouse again, planting the strange seeds, Hermione and Harry had gifted him with.

For Ron Weasley it would be, not to be green, with silver and pink dots.

* * *

Norbert, Hermione thought, would have been a good name, if the baby dragon had actually been male.

* * *

"Harry Potter is going to smuggle a dragon and Draco Malfoy is trying to ambush him, to then rat him out to a teacher?", Neville Longbottom incredulously inquired.  
The upper year nodded.  
"That's what he said."  
"Thanks for the warning, I'll go and…" "Oh, and Granger is with Potter."  
"What? Hermione is with him? Oh, well, never mind then. She got that."

* * *

Really, besides Ron, none of them cared, who wanted to steal what, but the fact that Dumbledore had prohibited entering this specific corridor, coupled with the chance to have some sort of adventure and ruin some baddies day, had proven too tempting to resist.

* * *

"Die fugly, die!"

* * *

These so called security measures sucked, Harry thought, pumping salt rounds in his possessed professor, while his lovely Hermione did something complicated looking with runes and stuff, Neville admired the scenery and Ron pissed himself before fainting.

First they had had to sneak out after curfew, brave the moving stairs to the forbidden third floor corridor, where he had picked the lock of the door, only to come face to faces with a three headed dog.  
He'd been ready to shoot it, but the thing had caught one sniff of his intended and cowered in a corner, whimpering.  
He thought he heard her mumble: "Thanks Fenrir, good thing I took this jacket", but that could have been the draft.

Then they had to jump down a trapdoor, onto a sunlight and fire hating plant thingy.  
Harry himself had never been a fan of either plants or monsters, but Neville had been euphoric and spent a good ten minutes petting the burned thing back to live.

Third had been a gigantic chess set, against which Ron had really, really wanted to play, but somehow they had ended up starting an all-out, no-rules war between black and white instead and then slipped away, while the pieces were busy slaughtering each other.

Fourth had been another lock to pick, though first he'd had to catch some of the flying keys, because Hermione liked them and Harry liked giving his intended presents and making her smile at him.  
A lot.  
All in all, easily the best obstacle yet.

Fifth was a knocked out troll.

Next was some riddle, over which Ron quickly despaired, while the other three had laughed at him.  
His Hermione had then told Ron, that she had no intention of drinking any potions she had not tampered with herself and then something about logic, but Harry had not been able to listen anymore, because by then she had stalked over to the fire that blocked their way and glared it in submission and wow!  
Hermione looked breathtaking, with her wild her and that scary look on her face, the fire in the background…  
Neville snapped him out of his stupor, by discretely hitting him over the head.

Last had been some sort of mirror, but they had never even gotten a chance of looking at it, before the face on the back of Professor Quirrels head began monologing.  
Which made Harry shoot it, because he was bored.  
Noseless took that as an invitation to shoot back (spells that is), which Harry had counted on, but he just couldn't shut the fuck up and droned on and on about power and being immortal and stuff.  
Awesome.

That could have gotten on for a while (Harry quite liked shooting things and he had lots of ammo and weapons to try out and maybe the others would like to get in some punches too?), but Hermione was done with whatever it was, she had been doing and his angel didn't like waiting, so Harry bowed and offered her the stage.

* * *

To say Hermione was annoyed would be an understatement.  
She hated it, when somebody messed up her carefully managed sleeping schedule (mostly because she got her best ideas waking up in the middle of the night) and she quite liked Neville and Harry (though she would not marry him. Yet.) so planning to kill them because of some stupid prophesy was a big no.  
Besides, "Lord Voldemort" was an uninspired name for a villain, doubly so for one, that stood in the way of her plans for the Wizarding World (which involved dragging them all in the 21th century kicking and screaming, a purple bunny named "Merlin" and some other things she would do to them just for the heck of it).  
Anyone standing between her and a purple bunny had to go, this immortality nonsense was a hurdle, but: "Do you know the downside of being immortal? It's easy, you don't die. No matter what is done to you…"  
That said Hermione Granger ignited the mix of herbs in the bowl and with a puff of multicolored smoke Loki appeared in the center of the runic circle.

* * *

Like any pagan, Loki could be summoned, if one knew the right ritual and was willing to take the risk of having a pissed of Trickster on your ass.  
Unlike any other pagan, Loki was actually the archangel Gabriel and could easily ignore any summons, though most of the time he would appear anyway, if only for the sake of his cover and to mess with the pretentious human.  
That said, there were quite a lot of rituals created to summon him, as he'd been around a long time and been known under a lot of names all over the world. And he knew this special summons, because it had been lost for centuries, before he taught it to his closest friends and new family members – one of them his adorable little goddaughter, who should be sleeping right now, not fighting ugly noseless dark lords with souls that looked like they went through a wood chipper.  
Rather demonic, even if it was (more or less) still alive.  
Proud uncle that he was, Loki flashed his niece a grin and a thumbs up, before turning to his next victim, expression turning feral.  
"This is going to be sooo much fun…"

* * *

Harry had to admit, even if his Hermione's uncle, godfather, whatever was the Trickster and therefore one of those things that go bump in the night, he liked his style.  
The menacing announcement, followed by the casual disregard for Noseless' spells and threats…  
Loki, despite his rather harmless looks really had the "scare the crap outta your opponents"-part down.  
An eyebrow waggle and a snap later Quirrel's dead body collapsed and some sort of blackish smoke pooled in the air over it, tying (and failing) to get away.  
Another snap and six bouts of smoke came from all directions, one of them even out of Harry's own head!  
"Son of a bitch!"  
"One proto-demon completed and headed off to Trickster TV-land", commented Loki, as the smoke disappeared.  
"Proto-demon?", Hermione asked and Harry was lost in the thought of how cute she looked, nose scrunched up, eyes alight with curiosity, then he snapped out of it, this was interesting, doubly so from the viewpoint of a hunter.  
"Yeah, demons are basically humans, whose souls landed themselves in hell for one reason or other, where they get tortured, till they turn into the ugly mugs we see topside again.  
From time to time some human comes along, whose soul is so ugly they look like demons despite never having been to the pit.  
Like this chucklehead, who tried to overstay his welcome infinitely by breaking his own soul and stashing pieces of it in some horrible heirlooms and the littlest Winchesters head.  
I just collected all those pieces for a class reunion, it's gonna be fun. For me, that is."  
Harry nodded, fine with him, as long as that soul thingy was no longer hibernating in his scar. He'd have to talk this over with his father, to make sure Loki was telling the truth, though he didn't look forward to admitting that he'd met a the Trickster and didn't even try to shoot it…  
Helpful or not, it was a monster.  
"Well, he is all yours", Hermione shrugged and Loki grinned again, all sharp teeth and gleaming eyes, and told her:  
"You sure have a talent for finding to most deserving douchbags, kid. As a proud uncle, I can only say, you won the competition and earned the right to decide where we go for this summer's vacation. See ya in a few weeks!"  
A snap and he vanished.  
Naturally, that was when Dumbledore appeared, tasteless robes flattering around him dramatically.

* * *

Albus Dumbledore was known for being infuriatingly calm in any and all situations, in fact, a lot of people would have paid a lot of money just to see him loose his calm once…  
Dumbledore himself had never understood these people, nor had he acknowledged, how utterly annoying it was, when your interlocutor stayed calm und unaffected, while you were rapidly losing your composure.  
Being the experienced genius that he was, Dumbledore wasn't used to feel out of his depth.  
And his students ridiculous tales made his head hurt.

When he had entered, assessing the situation with a single look, he had instantly known that his suspicions had been correct, Tom had in fact used Quirinius as a host.  
Harry and his friends had obviously followed him to protect the philosopher's stone and upon confrontation, Lily's protection had forced Tom to flee.  
Harry remained in good health, though Dumbledore would have thought that the lad would pass out about now… Oh, well, all the better, he was obviously even stronger than expected.  
Young Mr. Weasley had passed out – not one of Tom's spells, to harmless, but rather an obstacle, maybe a sacrifice for the team?  
His other two students were alright too, in fact… They were a bit too good…  
Mr. Longbottom and Miss Granger were happily discussing interesting places to visit all over the world, while Harry seemed to try and persuade Miss Granger to spent some time with his family. Minerva would be glad to hear that Harry was very happy with the Dursleys, though when had they moved out of Britain…?  
Perhaps a visit was in order?  
And, oh, Miss Granger refused and Dumbledore knew this look… Young love was a truly beautiful thing, even if it seldom lasted… It was better that way and personally Dumbledore had always thought, that Harry and young Miss Weasley would make a wonderful match, quite like Lily and James…  
Moreover, the Weasleys had strong ties with the Wizarding World, the light and Dumbledore himself.  
Even if Harrys crush on Miss Granger would last, Dumbledore prided himself in his flexibility. Plans changed, but to adapt he had to get more information, know what happened exactly.

"Harry, my boy, would you explain? You don't need to worry, you and your friends are not in trouble, I know that you were merely trying to prevent Lord Voldemort's return."  
"Actually it's more that we were curious and – ow, that was my foot!"  
"What he wanted to say was, you were absolutely right, headmaster."  
"Whatever you say, Hermione…"  
"Yes, what she said."  
"It's quite alright. Still, a more thorough explanation of what happened…?"  
"Well, your security is shit and I shot Noseless. Then Hermiones uncle took him to wherever and said she could decide where her family'll spend the holiday, so I'm trying to persuade her to visit me!"  
"Your family would try to hunt my uncle!"  
"I am afraid I'll need some more information. Harry, am I to assume that you are referring to Lord Voldemort as "Noseless"?"  
"Well, he doesn't have one!"  
"Indeed. And the hunting?"  
"My family are hunters."

"…Miss Granger, your uncle?"  
"Well, he's not really my uncle, more like an old family friend and my godfather. But it's all very complicated, so I just call him my uncle."  
So Miss Granger did have magical relations?  
"Quite alright, what I enquired to, however, was how your godfather came to be in Hogwarts tonight and what his connection to Lord Voldemort is?"  
"I summoned him, so he could get rid of Voldemort. Eventually."  
Summoned? And to get rid of, to kill Lord Voldemort? He was currently working on some theories, but: "I am afraid, it is quite impossible to kill Lord Voldemort at this point, Miss Granger. I must insist that you contact your godfather and have him hand over Lord Voldemort."  
"To late for that."  
"My dad thought me that there is nothing that can't be killed, even if Noseless is a proto-demon."  
"A what please, Harry?"

* * *

…demons? Tortured souls turning proto-demons?  
…soul pieces? Horcruxes maybe? And six of them, one in young Harrys head?  
…Loki? Pagan gods, who broke the laws of magic?  
…hunters and monsters? Children raised to kill sentient creatures?  
Albus Dumbledore was officially done with these kids, who had wreaked havoc on his plans in only one short night!  
He needed a drink and some lemon drops and a lot of time to think.  
So he send them back to their beds and woke Mr. Weasley, whose interrogation went slightly smoother, though he had unfortunately fainted as soon as he had seen Tom.  
He dropped the boy of at the hospital wing, pacified Poppy and went back down.  
Dumbledore needed information and he needed Lord Voldemort.  
And there was one being who had both.

* * *

Loki couldn't say that he was surprised that Albus too-many-middle-names Dumb-as-door attempted to summon him, using Hermione's runic circle, but he was annoyed none the less.  
Nobody interrupted his milkshake-marathons and got away with it!  
So for his covers sake he appeared, acted as uncooperating as possible, spread some chaos and disappeared again. Mental trauma in under 20 minutes, not bad…  
Oh, just wait until Dumbles tried to use that summoning circle again, switch a few runes and sigils and he'd end up with the tooth fairy.  
And let's not start on what he did to the old man's lemon drops.  
Not pretty.  
Not pretty at all.

* * *

Meanwhile…  
"Hey guys, what do you reckon that is?"  
"Shiny?"  
"Not helping, Harry, it looks like a ruby, I think. Where'd you get it, Neville?"  
"Found it in my pocket."

* * *

The rest of the year consisted of a Quidditch cup victory for Gryffindor, a bad-tempered Dumbledore awarding Slytherin the seventh win in a row in the interhouse competition, the results of the end of the year exam and Harry trying to persuade Hermione (and Neville) to visit him during the holidays – unsuccessfully of course.


	2. Merlin, the purple bunny

First I would like to thank everyone for your awesome reviews and since nearly all of you asked:  
Yes, I will write a sequel to "House of Madness", which will include years 2 to 7 at Hogwarts in a series of oneshoots (all of them probably shorter than HoM), though it won't be up for a while yet, university keeps me busy.  
Said sequel will be titled "House of Madness: Schoolyears", because I'm feeling particular creative today…

Second, I have a little gift for you; here is the story of how Hermiones obsession with finding a purple bunny named Merlin started. Enjoy!

* * *

Merlin the purple bunny

Our story begins when Hermione is five years old.  
It's the last summer before she'll start school and the seventh wedding anniversary of Doctors Helen and Richard Granger, who had been gifted with a weekend in Paris, all expenses paid by Loki, who was currently on babysitting duty too.  
Said Trickster was amusing himself by tripping snobby tourists in Scotland's moors, while keeping an invisible eye on his charge.  
So no, he was not being irresponsible and what would happen this day was not his fault!  
(It totally was. He caused it.)

Hermione was wandering along the borders of the moor she had asked Loki to show her today, as it had looked really cool on TV yesterday, not really listening to the guide drowning on. She had long since found something, or rather someone, far more interesting.  
The man was pretty old (like thirty or forty), not very tall, wearing a pristine black suit and, most importantly, he had two faces!  
It was, like there was something else behind his normal, human face, like a storm cloud, twisted and distorted and twitching and from time to time you could see it in his eyes.  
It was fascinating.

Crowley, at the moment still right hand man of Lilith, queen of the crossroads, smiled, even though he could feel the mud ruining his shoes.  
Even though he was kept busy with small fry while something big was starting to take form.  
Even though he was back home.  
After this last, stupid tour, the frustrated guide would be ready to take the deal, a soul more for his collection.  
Maybe he could even bag one more deal here, today… Potential clients were everywhere, you just had to look.  
Like that bickering old couple, long since past loving teasing and well into a cruel war…  
Like that sick young man, cancer, depression, only a few more years to live and that was only if he didn't commit suicide before…  
Like that lone little girl, power flowing through her, but no friends, parents nowhere to be seen…  
Like that… The little girl was staring at him, apparently utterly fascinated.  
Well, he could probably work with that, if he could bag that powerful, innocent soul for himself…  
And no, Crowley did not have a bad feeling about this slip of a girl.  
(He had. But that could just as well have been the invisible archangel…)

The double-faced man was coming over, maybe he'd tell her what he was if she asked really nicely?  
Hermione grinned.  
"What are you, please? I know that you are not human! Why do you have two faces? How…"  
The man froze for a second, then he drawled: "My, my, aren't you a precious little one. I am the king of the crossroads, darling, I can make your greatest wish come true. Aren't you lucky you met me today?"  
"Hmm… My family already gives me everything I want. And you don't look like a king."  
"Why you…" Ops, it seemed she had angered him.  
"What else would I look like, brat?"  
Hermione cocked her head, thinking really hard.  
"Like a bunny! With flappy ears and twitching nose and fluffy, purple fur!"  
(Like Fenrir's lunch.)  
The man's second face clouded too, he took a threatening step towards Hermione.  
"Trying to insult me?! Stupid brat, don't you know…"  
Another step, Hermione squeaked, jumped back. Now the man wasn't so fascinating anymore, he was scary! Like a monster and she really wanted him to be a bunny again! Now!  
The double-faced monster took another step and her magic _reacted_.

Unfortunately, a child's accidental magic, unlike what adult witches and wizards could do, often acted in strange, unpredictable ways.  
The stronger the child, the more emotionally upset he or she was, the crazier the results tended to be.  
Mix in a demon and an archangel-trickster…

Too Hermione, first there was a double-faced man, who somehow reminded her of a bunny, then he turned into a decidedly unbunny like, scary monster, then there was a rush inside her and he shrunk down and he was a fluffy bunny, just like she had imagined, with twitchy nose and purple fur.  
Hermione squealed and kneeled down to scoop up the bunny and enthusiastically cuddle it to her chest.  
"I will name you Merlin. Merlin, my purple bunny!"

Too Crowley, he was just moments away from teaching the impertinent brat a lesson (and possibly dispose of her body in the moor), when he felt her inherent magic wash over him.  
He shrugged it off, just a bit of accidental magic, child play for a powerful demon, when it suddenly, impossibly took hold of him!  
What was happening, how could that little girl, born witch or no, have this kind of power?  
Crowley was panicking; he could feel his meat suit shrink, change.  
He tried smoking out, using his powers, any of them, useless!  
Flee; he had to flee, now!  
Newly bunnyfied Crowley wiggled out of the girls iron cuddle and hopped into the moor.

A few steps away, the real culprit was doubled over with laughter.  
That would teach that stinking demon not to mess with harmless looking little girls and certainly not with his goddaughter!  
If he survived the moor for a week, that is.


End file.
